


Teeth

by madswithhands



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, HotLock week 2020, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madswithhands/pseuds/madswithhands
Summary: For the beginning of HotLock Week; Day one is Teeth!
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: HotLock Week 2020





	Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Hot Rod and Deadlock share a few energon treats and look as the sun sets. Hot Rod muses over the differences of the two of them.
> 
> (A big thanks to Cieltee for being my beta in all of this. Love you bby!!)

There were tells on a mech that told stories. 

A scar on one’s derma and dark protoform under their optics were just a few. But there were also the little ones that separated the Autobots and Decepticons from each-other. Hot Rod was quite familiar with these tells, even if Autobots had adopted some of them from the Decepticons. Impactor, like most wreckers, had adopted fangs and claws which were considered a highly trademarked tell from the opposing faction. While the small speedster had never understood why the others had done it, he knew why Impactor had. 

Impactor had told him once, optics distant as he loaded up his blaster. ‘It’s mining stuff, kid.’ The wrecker leader had said. ‘Old stuff, probably before you were forged or whatever.’  
Hot Rod had let it rest after that, mostly because Impactor had that dark look in his optics and the speedster wasn’t looking forward to being his next punching bag.

That’s how Hot Rod found himself sitting on the edge of the cliff, a small box in his lap as he let the wind sway his spoiler. Kicking his pedes back and forth, he let digits drum on top of the box. If the fangs and claws were because of mining, then did that mean Deadlock was a miner? Or he had been one? 

But try as he might, Hot Rod couldn’t imagine the other being a miner in the slightest.

Deadlock never shared much in their short times together. Usually it was fast and hard, never enough room to breath and the Decepticon was gone before Hot Rod woke up in whatever place they had come together. And even if the other had slowed down, holding Hot Rod as if he were going to disappear at any moment, it didn’t mean Deadlock had opened up any more of what he did in the very beginning of their ‘relationship’. 

Derma twitching, Hot Rod shifted a bit in his spot, only to flinch as a heavy frame sat next to him the next moment. Jerking back a bit, Hot Rod let out a scoff and nudged Deadlock with his shoulder. “A little more warning next time, jerk.” He said, pout forming on his derma as he looked at the other. 

Deadlock just snorted. “Not my fault you were spacing out, now was it? I could have kicked you off, you know.” 

Hot Rod laughed at that. “Shoulda, coulda, woulda.” He replied. To his surprise, Deadlock smirked. 

“Best that I don’t- then who else would I bother? Turmoil?” Deadlock mused, his smirk turning nasty as he gazed at the smaller speedster.

“Like you don’t bother him enough already.” Hot Rod said, before looking down at the box in his lap, and lifted it up. “Brought us something, by the way. You mentioned never having these types of treats one time, and Roadbuster owed me one.” 

Deadlock frowned at that, looking at the box as if it was a bomb. “You giving out handouts now?” he asked all the same, distrustful look in his red optics. “Or do you do this for all the mecha who give you a good frag?” 

Hot Rod opened the box, revealing cosmic-swirls, oil cakes, rust-sticks and other small energon goodies. Giving another little snort, the Autobot took up a rust stick and placed it between his derma. “Me? Handouts? Never,” He replied around his mouthful, “And I've had better frags, by the way. Ones that don't end up with me on the dirty ground with cuts all over me.” Hot Rod smirked now as Deadlock growled. 

Reaching a servo out to harshly pinch Hot Rod’s jaw, Deadlock turned the others helm and grabbed the rust stick with his own scarred derma. Hot Rod made a noise of protest, quickly munching down on as much of the rust treat before the other could get to it. Sadly enough Deadlock seemed to have the same idea as well.

The treat was swiftly destroyed as the two met in the middle, derma pressed against each other. Humming, Hot Rod smiled into the kiss as Deadlock forced his derma open, pressing his glossa quickly into the Decepticons mouth. Deadlock let him have this, a deep laugh in his chassis as his grip on the others jaw loosened. Pressing in a little more insistently, Hot Rod ran his glossa on the edges of the others denta, tracing the sharp fangs that gently grazed it. 

Letting out a purr of his engine, Deadlock slitted his optics as he tugged Hot Rod into his lap; scooting them away from the cliff's edge. Quickly setting the box of treats away from them, Hot Rod pulled back with a huff. 

“Be careful.” He said as Deadlocks’ servos mapped out his frame. “I worked hard to get these treats, you know.”

Deadlock smirked at that, before pressing a kiss to the others cheek. “Mhm, I’m sure you did.” He said with a flash of his fangs. Hot Rod couldn’t stop his servos from moving, digits pressing at the others' derma until Deadlock parted them. Looking at the others’ fangs, Hot Rod lightly traced one with a digit; moving it quickly as Deadlock tried to bite down. 

“Jerk.” Hot Rod said, but winced a bit as claws dug into his sides.   
“You got something for my fangs, huh?” Deadlock said, tone unfairly matter-of-fact even if it was only sorta true. 

“More like I wanna know why all Decepticons have them. Impactor said if had to do something with being a miner.” 

Deadlock was quiet, derma pursed a bit as he looked away. Hot Rod waited for the other to possibly kick him off and leave, or silence him with another kiss; but he was happily surprised when neither of that happened. Looking to the sky and letting out a vent, Deadlock shifted a bit in place. 

“Well, he’s not wrong. But miners had them because they fuelled on energon dregs and crystals.” A pause as Deadlock's voice went quiet, “But mechs in Rodion had them to siphon better. Fangs work well when you’re tearing out someones’ throat, claws can hold all the better too.” Flexing his claws on Hot Rod’s hips, the other held in a breath.

“Well, that makes sense. Not you being from Rodion.” Hot Rod quickly amended when his ‘friend’ gave him a look. “But from the fact I’d seen them on mechs from…” a breath, “From Nyon. I had them too before I became an Autobot.”

Deadlock seemed almost surprised at that, optics glimmering. Hot Rod shuffled under his gaze, blue optics casting a glow as the sun finally set fully. Then he heard a laugh, a small thing that grew as bit as the frame underneath him shook lightly. 

“What?” Hot Rod said, narrowing his optics as Deadlock held him close. 

“I imagined you with little fangs and claws. Like a cougar-raider sparkling.” Deadlock replied, burying his helm in the other's neck. “You probably looked so cute, trying to look so fierce.” 

Hot Rod pouted at that as the other shook a little harder before mumbling, “I hope you know your scummyness level has just been raised by five percent.”

His words had little effect as Deadlock laughed a little louder, finally pulling away from the others shoulder to look at him with a smile. And whatever Hot Rod was about to say escaped from his processor, leaving him gaping as he took in the other. Deadlock rarely gave a genuine smile that wasn’t a half-smirk. But the smile on his derma now proudly displayed long fangs, a gleaming white against the dark face-plates. Feeling himself fluster, the smaller mech looked down at the treat box and picked up another rust stick. 

“Want to help me eat these, or do you not want the handout?” He said, raising a challenging brow at the other mech. 

Deadlock replied by taking the treat from his servo, placing it between his derma with a smile; his own brow raised in silent reply. 

Hot Rod gave a laugh before taking the other end in his own derma.


End file.
